This letter continues a theme Dart explored earlier – the monotonous life he leads making it difficult to think of things to say. He resorts once again to the diary method, beginning with a midnight wake-up to take his sulpha pills. The sleep interruptions continue throughout the night at regular intervals, and he’s up for good at 7:45. He walked three steps to the chair while his sheets were changed, and fell into the arms of an alert aide when he rose to get back in bed. The latest guess is that he’ll be allowed out of bed for good in about a week.
He writes a wonderful riff on the 1935 Esquire that he’s been reading. “That’s Esquire as it was, the Esquire that gained its fame for racy cartoons and good stories. The Esquire that is no more… But in addition…that issue showed Progress more than anything else I’ve read recently…Styles have changed…A full display of cars is shown – most of the 1936 cars are never seen on the streets any more…And what makes this magazine distinctive is that there is nothing about the war. ” There is so much packed into this paragraph that I could write about! How sublime it must have been to be temporarily immersed in a world with no war! How odd that nine-year old cars were obsolete! How fun it was for Dart to enjoy a magazine that had been published when he was 11 years old.
He continues on to talk about letters he received and ones he wrote in the afternoon. He mentions that his swollen leg is getting smaller and his shriveled leg is getting thicker. The snow is nearly gone, and he pines for the spring-like weather he has heard Cleveland is enjoying.
When a bit of pessimism about his pending leave sneaks into the letter, he derides himself for it. “I should be shot at sunrise by a quartet of orangutans trained in the use of bow and arrow.” He apologizes for not having anything interesting to write to his girl. (I’d say he did just fine!)
Dot writes with what she hopes is good news. She just learned that her upcoming weekend break has been moved up to March 17, which she hopes will be the perfect time to spend with Dart. She’ll be staying at a classmate’s home on the east side of Cleveland, near Dart’s folks. I know a couple of kids who will be crushed if this pending leave doesn’t work out the way they hope.
She had a pop quiz in English today – on punctuation. She says she’ll not give a hint of her grade, except to say it wasn’t good. It was terrific!
She’s happy to know Dart plans to write to Ronnie Coleman and Van Johnson. She simply asks that he make it a gentle note to let them down easy. She hates to think how heart-broken they will be to learn she has thrown them over for a sailor.
There was more discussion about the New York Spaghetti House in Cleveland, and other such dives. She tells Dart she also likes to observe people. When she’s waiting for a train in Grand Central Station, she likes to watch the passersby and imagine their pasts and their futures.
Referring to his request to use some of the witty lines from her letters in ones that he writes to others, she quips “Due to the fact that Washington, DC is very busy right now, I have not, as yet, been able to get my humor (?) copywrited (sic) or patented, so I guess there is nothing stopping you from using it. (I’m quite flattered.)”
She’s looking forward to a call from her friend Cynthia from Greenwich. Cynthia’s father has just driven her out to bring her to Oberlin College to study music.
She fills up the final page with a drawing of Bugs Bunny – a favorite character around her house.
